[Countdown to Midterms: 110 Days Remaining]
Event: "A Tired Student"
Survival Rate: 14%
Phase One Complete.
Phase Two: Continue Not Dying.
---
Week two of the academy began with rain.
Not the normal kind, either.
The enchanted kind—shimmering droplets falling in reverse, floating up toward the clouds like gravity was just a suggestion.
I stood under the archway of East Tower, staring at it with my satchel slung over one shoulder.
"Why is it always weird here?"
Crescent's voice echoed in my mind, amused and smooth.
"Because you enrolled in a magical death school, darling. Not a weather institute."
Fair.
She wasn't physically beside me anymore. After her rather dramatic entrance into reality, she'd taken pity on my social life and returned to sword form—well, sort of.
[Ego Weapon "Crescent" has entered Dormant State: Conscious Integration Mode]
Mana Drain: Minimal
Form: Dispersed within Host Consciousness
Communication: Enabled
Combat Readiness: Immediate Summon
In simpler terms: she now lived in my head.
Convenient. A little terrifying. But mostly convenient.
Especially since walking around with a sword on my back like an overconfident protagonist was bound to draw questions. And I had enough of those already—like why I couldn't use basic spells, or why I never pulled up a grimoire in class, or how I managed to blink behind someone without a chant.
All things I wasn't ready to explain.
Not yet.
---
Crescent could see my system.
Not metaphorically. Not vaguely. I mean she literally had full visual access. The glowing menus, the skills, the countdowns—everything.
She'd confirmed as much yesterday, in the middle of me panicking about getting a new skill.
"Of course I can see it. I am it, in a way. I'm part of the system's interface. Its will, if you want to get poetic."
I did not want to get poetic.
Still, it meant she was the only one I didn't have to lie to.
Which was nice.
And also terrifying, because she had opinions.
"That skill's a waste."
"You're hoarding points again. Spend them."
"Why do you always skip stat descriptions like an amateur speedrunner?"
"I'm literally trying not to die."
"Then stop putting everything into WIL like a cultist and balance your build."
I may have accidentally created the world's sassiest sword coach.
---
Monday's classes were calmer.
Professor Irelia didn't yell at anyone, which was concerning.
Ancient Studies was full of cryptic metaphor and "forgotten empires," which meant I took extensive notes and tried not to laugh when the slides included blurry pictures of Earth pyramids labeled "Ruins of the Sky-Kings."
Alex sat next to me. Silent, as usual. But every now and then, he'd sneak a glance my way like he wanted to ask something. Or punch me. Or both.
I wasn't sure what was going on with him. Whatever.
But I got the feeling he was unraveling faster than I was.
And that was saying something.
---
After class, I found an empty hallway and pretended to tie my boots while checking my system again.
[Skill Points Available: 1]
[Mana Capacity: 38/100]
[Status: Stable]
Bound Weapon: "Crescent"
– Passive Link Active
– Ego Affinity: High
– Summon Trigger: Mental Command / Emergency Reflex
Warning: Stat imbalance detected (WIL disproportionately high)
"Shut up," I muttered under my breath.
"I didn't say anything," Crescent hummed sweetly. "But I am judging you."
---
Later that evening, as the rain reversed back to normal and the stars blinked into view, I stood alone on the dorm rooftop.
I took a breath.
"Summon."
A silver shimmer spiraled around my hand. Light bled outward in soft threads. No chant. No theatrics.
Crescent formed in my palm like moonlight taking shape—sleek, cool to the touch, humming with presence.
The blade pulsed.
"You're getting better."
"I'm still behind."
"But not lost."
I smiled faintly. "Thanks."
She was quiet for a moment.
Then said softly:
"Next skill. You'll need it soon."
The wind picked up.
And far below, somewhere in the eastern gardens, a faint bell tolled.
Something old was waking.